The Sisters of St. Croix

by Diney Costeloe

  Adelaide squeezed her hand. “We should bathe your face, Marie,” she said, looking at the long gash across Marie’s cheek. The bleeding had stopped, but it was a nasty cut. “It really needs stitches—you should go to the doctor.”

  “And how will she explain it?” demanded Gerard, suddenly looking up.

  “The broken glass from the window,” suggested Adelaide. “We are going to have to account for the broken window somehow. You’ll have to try and get some glass to mend it.”

  “What will we say?” Gerard said wearily.

  Adelaide thought for a moment. “If you’re asked, you say you were using the axe to chop wood in the yard and the head flew off and smashed the window.”

  Gerard looked at her blankly as she went on. “Come on, Gerard, it could have happened like that. We have to have a story ready in case we are asked. If we aren’t, fine, but if we are, we must all say the same thing.” She reached across the table and took the hand of each of the Launays in hers. “You’ve both been so brave tonight, sheltering the Auclons and then standing up to Fernand. You were amazing, but we have to see it through. If Marie doesn’t go to the doctor to have that gash stitched, it will look more suspicious than if she does. If you’d had an accident with the axe, you’d have taken her straight over.” She squeezed their hands gently. “You’ve kept the Auclons safe, and we’ll find a way to help them escape.”

  Marie nodded. “Adèle is right, Gerard, we must look as normal as possible. I will go to Dr Monceau in a little while. You must do the milking, and Adèle must go to the convent. All must be as normal.”

  All must be as normal, Adelaide thought as she pedalled her way up the hill to the convent. What is normal in these dreadful times? A family hiding in a cellar, a man threatening torture and ending up at the bottom of a well? Me killing someone, plunging a knife into his back?

  The memory of the knife jarring into the man’s body flooded through her and Adelaide tumbled off her bicycle and was sick in the hedge. But although her body had reacted against her action, her mind did not. Him or us, she reminded herself as she re-mounted the bike. Him or us.

  19

  The Germans raided the convent while the nuns were at early Mass. The thundering on the front door could be heard all over the building, and Father Michel’s reedy voice faded away as the pounding continued. Sister Celestine, the portress, stumbled to her feet, her face ashen with fear, but Mother Marie-Pierre also stood. She murmured to Sister Celestine that she would deal with whoever was at the door, and quietly left the chapel. She was in no doubt as to who was demanding entrance; only the Germans knocked that way, the Germans under Colonel Hoch.

  When she reached the door, she flung it wide, so that the soldier hammering with the huge knocker almost fell in. Colonel Hoch was standing on the steps, at the head of a group of men, but Mother Marie-Pierre could see soldiers already trampling the bushes along the drive, and she had no doubt that there would be other men in the courtyard, searching there.

  She drew a deep breath. “Good morning, Colonel Hoch. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Reverend Mother,” he looked her up and down, “how unusual that you should open the door yourself.”

  “My sisters and I were at Mass,” Mother Marie-Pierre said coolly. “I came, so that they shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “You will all be disturbed,” remarked the colonel, “if I choose to disturb you.” He waved a hand at the men waiting beside him. “Carry on, Sergeant,” he said. “And make it a thorough search.”

  The men flooded into the hallway and dispersed throughout the convent building. Mother Marie-Pierre saw several head up the staircase while others made for the kitchens.

  “Perhaps you could tell me what you are looking for,” she suggested to Hoch who had followed his men into the hall and now stood, his cold eyes roving in every direction.

  His gaze returned to her, but he did not answer her question. “Go and tell your nuns to stay in the chapel until I say they may come out.”

  Mother Marie-Pierre nodded and turned to go back to the chapel. As she did so, one of the soldiers came back from the kitchen, pushing Adelaide in front of him.

  “Found her in the cellar, sir. Says she’s the maid.”

  Mother Marie-Pierre didn’t understand what had been said, but she did recognise the word “keller” and guessed where Adelaide had been found.

  Colonel Hoch looked at Adelaide for a moment and then spoke in French. “Name?”

  “Please, sir, Adèle Durant, sir.”

  “I’ve seen you here before,” Hoch said. “What were you doing in the cellar?”

  Adelaide had no need to pretend she was afraid; her voice shook as she answered. “Bringing up the coal for the range, sir. It’s my first job in the mornings.”

  Her hands were black with coal dust and the colonel seemed to accept this answer. He directed his next question to the man who had brought her. “Have you searched the cellar, Schultz?”

  “Not yet, sir. I was about to when I found the girl. Thought she might be one of the ones we were looking for, sir.”

  “Well, go back and search. You, girl, wait in the kitchen.”

  Schultz took Adelaide by the arm and pushed her in front of him down the passage to the kitchen. Two men were already searching here, but Schultz ignored them. “You, girl, bring a light.”

  “I don’t understand,” Adelaide wailed, wringing her hands in agitation.

  Schultz repeated his order, this time in heavily accented and ungrammatical French. “Find light. Come with me.”

  Ignoring the searching men, he moved straight towards the cellar door. It was clear to Adelaide that this man knew his way about, that he must have searched the place before.

  Would he remember exactly how the cellar had looked last time, she wondered? Would he notice that all the furniture had been moved, that it was now stacked in a different place?

  He flung open the cellar door and then turned round. “You,” he shouted at Adelaide again, “bring lamp.”

  “It’s at the bottom of the stairs,” Adelaide told him, pointing down the steps. “An oil lamp.”

  Again he gestured with the rifle. “Go, make light.”

  Adelaide did as she was told, gripping the handrail of the cellar steps tightly as she made her way down. Her heart was pounding as she struck a match to light the lamp, but her mind was racing. You’ve got to stay cool, she told herself. You’ve got to decide what to do if he finds the hidden room.

  Nothing, she decided ruefully. There was nothing she could do if he actually found the room, but she might be able to distract him in some way, before he did so.

  Schultz followed her down, and, pausing at the bottom of the steps, looked about him. His eye fell on the jars of preserves standing on the shelf. Without comment he reached up and took two jars of honey, stuffing them into his pockets. He ran an eye round the cellar for anything else that he might be able to purloin, but seeing nothing easily portable, he turned his attention to the rest of the cellar.

  “Bring light,” he ordered. Obedient to a jerk of his head, Adelaide preceded him through the remaining cellars. He peered into each until he came at last to the pile of furniture. Adelaide found she was holding her breath and forced herself to breathe again as he gave it only a cursory glance.

  “What a load of junk,” he said, reaching out for an old three-legged stool. There was a scuffling sound and he leapt back, jerking his hand away, as a large brown rat emerged from the heap and scuttled away across the floor. Adelaide gave a loud shriek, clutching her skirt about her.

  His attention diverted from the furniture, the man gave a harsh laugh. “Stupid woman!” He pushed her ahead of him to light his way back to the stairs. As he passed the apple store he helped himself to a couple of apples, pushing them down into his pockets, his eyes daring Adelaide to comment on the theft. She lowered her own, as if afraid to meet his challenge, exulting inside that his greed should have blinded him to anything
in the cellar that he could not steal.

  When they returned to the kitchen, it was clear that his men had found nothing. The sergeant threw open the back door and they stalked out into the courtyard to join in the search there.

  Adelaide slumped onto a chair, relief flooding through her that the safe room had so far escaped detection. If the Germans left empty-handed they would concentrate their search somewhere else, and perhaps the Auclons would be safe enough for a few days. But it worried her that the Germans were already looking for the little family. Alain Fernand must have told them about the Auclons before he came searching at the Launays’. That meant, before long, they would realise he was missing. Had he mentioned the Launays as well? Would they come searching there? Adelaide shuddered to think what would happen to them if his body was discovered in the well.

  When the Germans had finally departed empty-handed, Mother Marie-Pierre went back to the chapel where the entire community was waiting. Father Michel sat in the carved oak chair to one side of the altar, his head in his hands. Soldiers had burst into the chapel, searching the Lady Chapel, disappearing behind the high altar, jabbing at the velvet hangings with rifle butts and banging about in the vestry, peering into the confessional box before slamming out again. Thoroughly shaken by this invasion, Father Michel had hastily muttered the final prayers of the Mass, and, having divested himself of his vestments, simply sat down to wait. The nuns were all in their stalls, some on their knees, others seated reading their office. No one spoke. All looked up, some expectantly, others fearfully, when the door opened again and Reverend Mother came in.

  “Thank you, Sisters, for your patience,” she said briskly. “The Germans have now gone, so I suggest we all get back to our normal duties as quickly as we can.” The sisters began to file out of the chapel, each genuflecting as she passed in front of the altar.

  Father Michel hurried down the aisle, his face pale. He did not return Reverend Mother’s greeting, but simply nodded to her and hastened away, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the place.

  Mother Marie-Pierre waited by the door and as Sister Marie-Marc came past her, she spoke quietly. “Sister, would you be kind enough to ask young Adèle Durant to come to my office, please.”

  Sister Marie-Marc bobbed her head, murmuring, “Yes, Mother, of course.”

  Reverend Mother waited until all but the sister on watch had left the chapel, and then she slipped into a seat near the back. She needed a few moments of silent peace to draw her thoughts together. She prayed for strength, and she prayed for wisdom, that she might know what to do. The German raid had left her both angry and afraid.

  Colonel Hoch had been as cold as always, his chilly eyes completely lacking emotion, but she knew he had expected to find something… or someone.

  The search had been thorough. Every room entered and searched, furniture moved, cupboards emptied. The chapel, the kitchens, the cellar, the sisters’ cells, even her own office, each had a detail of soldiers to carry out the search. Hoch had stood in the hallway, waiting for each group to report back to him, and Reverend Mother had returned from the chapel defiantly standing with him, determined to remain unintimidated, but she almost sagged with relief when the final report came in. Nothing to be found.

  “Now the hospital,” he barked, and led his men out through the courtyard gate to the hospital beyond the wall. They swept into the wards, leaving Sister Marie-Paul, Sister Jeanne-Marie and Mother Marie-Pierre to watch helplessly, as the colonel and his men searched every cubicle, every cupboard, every storeroom.

  “What are they looking for?” murmured Sister Marie-Paul, as one of them upended a basket of dirty linen.

  “Some escaped prisoners, I think,” replied Reverend Mother softly. “He seems to think they are in the convent.”

  Every name above a bed was checked against the ward list, medical reports scrutinised and papers inspected. At last, satisfied that all the patients were genuine and accounted for, Hoch had got back into his car and his men had disappeared to search elsewhere.

  As usual, the incense-scented silence of the chapel worked its cure. Reverend Mother had always laid her problems at the feet of her Lord, and the moments of peace spent with Him now calmed and strengthened her, and when she left the sanctuary of the chapel she returned to her office with renewed resolve.

  Within moments someone tapped on the door, and she knew it must be Adèle. Mother Marie-Pierre seated herself behind her desk and rang the bell to summon her into the office.

  “Ah, Adèle,” she said coolly as the girl came in. “Come in and shut the door.”

  Adelaide closed the door firmly and then turned back to face her aunt.

  Mother Marie-Pierre came straight to the point. “You know the Germans were here, searching the convent this morning, Adèle. Was that anything to do with you?” Her eyes were steely as she looked at Adelaide. “Have you hidden your escaping prisoners in the convent in spite of what I said?”

  Adelaide, taking in Reverend Mother’s serious tone, addressed her formally. “No, Mother. Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean? Not exactly? Have you put the convent at risk?”

  Adelaide returned her gaze levelly. “I have, yes, but…”

  “How dare you!” The anger in Mother Marie-Pierre’s voice was barely controlled. “After I expressly told you that it was out of the question?” She stared at her niece for a moment and then spoke more calmly. “You may be prepared to put the whole convent at risk, Adèle, but I am not. Where are these prisoners? Where have you hidden them? They should be handed over as prisoners of war. They’ll be locked up, yes, but no harm will come to them.”

  “Sarah…”

  “Mother,” corrected her aunt, icily. “You will no longer presume on our relationship.”

  Adelaide inclined her head, accepting the rebuke, but she spoke firmly. “Mother… look, it’s not what you think. I have hidden people in the convent, yes, but not escaped prisoners of war.”

  “Then who?”

  “The Auclon family.”

  “What?” Mother Marie-Pierre stared at her in disbelief.

  “The Auclon family. They’re Jews and…”

  “I know who they are,” interrupted Reverend Mother, still disbelieving. “They’re here? In the convent?”

  “Well, they’ve been in hiding, hidden by some good people for months, but now that hiding place has become unsafe. They were brought to our farm last night and we were asked to hide them. We had nowhere they could be hidden, so I brought them here. Father, mother and the twin boys.”

  “But where did you put them?” asked her aunt faintly. “Where are they now?”

  “I hid them in the cellar.”

  “But the Germans searched the cellar… “

  “And they didn’t find them. I put them into the room where you hid Terry Ham. The one with grating to the outside.”

  “But why didn’t the Germans find them?”

  “I pulled all the old furniture over in front of the door. You can’t see it unless you move all the furniture away. The sergeant who searched the cellars insisted on searching alone because he wanted to raid your stores. His search was only cursory; he was more interested in stealing food from your store cupboard than looking for Jews he didn’t expect to find.”

  “But when?”

  “Last night. Gerard and I brought them up. We moved the outside grating and got them in that way.”

  “No, not that. When did you move all this furniture?”

  “I did it several days ago,” admitted Adelaide with a wry smile. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I had to have a safe place for people to hide in case of emergency. Last night I decided this was an emergency. I was remembering what you told me Sister Eloise had said to you, ‘You have to fight evil wherever you meet it.’ “

  “Don’t use poor Sister Eloise to justify what you did,” snapped Reverend Mother.

  “Why not?” Adelaide would not give ground. “It’s what she said and it’s what I did.”
The two women stared at each other for a moment before Adelaide spoke more gently. “It’s what you’d have done, Mother. What was I to do with those children? They’re only four years old. They’ve been living in a derelict cottage for the last six months and now they’re underground, in a cellar. We couldn’t just let the Germans ship them off to some camp. Don’t worry, Mother, I promise you it’s just a short-term measure. I’m going to get them away.”

  “How?” asked Reverend Mother. “There are four of them to move. They will be extremely noticeable, especially Monsieur Auclon. He has typical Jewish features, and he’s well known around here. He’ll be spotted a mile off.”

  “I’ve thought about that,” Adelaide said. “I have the beginnings of a plan, but the less you know of it the better. I have to work out the details and it will take a few days to put into action, but I think we should be able to get them safely out of the area.” She looked earnestly at her aunt. “I need to get this family to your friend Father Bernard. No one will be looking for them in Amiens. It’s here they are known, it’s here they were betrayed.”

  “Betrayed?” Reverend Mother was shocked. “Who by?”

  “A local man. He’s a known collaborator. We guessed he’d discovered their hiding place and he must have tipped off the Germans.”

  “He must have seen you bringing the family here, and that’s why they came to search.”

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t,” Adelaide said firmly, knowing for certain that he hadn’t. For an instant she saw Fernand’s body on the kitchen floor, her knife protruding from his back, and her stomach turned somersaults but, forcing the image from her mind, she dragged her thoughts back to the present. “We were very careful. We did see two German soldiers come and raid poor Sister Marie-Marc’s henhouse, but they didn’t see us. They were too interested in taking the hens.”

  “And what about the people who gave them shelter?” asked Mother Marie-Pierre quietly. “What’s happened to them?”